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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25912726">Drumbot Brian Flips a Switch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowWispFlame/pseuds/WillowWispFlame'>WillowWispFlame</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>So Sings a Song of Slaughter [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The Mechanisms (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Stranger, Gen, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist is a Mechanism, Major Character Injury, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Slaughter Avatar Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, The Mechanisms Are Grifter's Bone, The Mechanisms Were The Archivist's College Band, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:46:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25912726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowWispFlame/pseuds/WillowWispFlame</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben has a more comfortable relationship with the supernatural than some of the other Mechanisms.</p>
<p>Brian and Mike Crew decide to do some urban exploration, and beat up a clown.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Danny Stoker &amp; Tim Stoker, Drumbot Brian &amp; Marius von Raum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>So Sings a Song of Slaughter [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775218</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>So Sings a Song of Slaughter</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Drumbot Brian Flips a Switch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Lyrics are from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KvQ0zWHtnN4"><em>Pump Shanty</em></a> by the Mechanisms! </p>
<p>Also, things get really gross with the Stranger in this one, be warned.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Brian tapped a rhythm on his notebook with his pen in time to the peppy pop music playing in the cafe. Not Marius’ favorite cafe, he would probably kill Brian if he tried something like this in his favorite coffee shop. No, it was one of those million and one pop up shops buying out local competition with their overpriced coffee. The type of place that tired office workers stopped at for their caffeine shot and then forgot until tomorrow morning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watched in delight as the customers in line started shifting in place and snipping at each other. One of them tried to cut the queue, and Brian started tapping a little harder as he saw the patrons behind eyeing them murderously. Fist fights over afternoon coffee would be an excellent way to keep himself entertained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alas, no fights had broken out before Mike Crew showed up. Ben set his pen down and pulled out his phone to play some menial mobile game as Mike ordered his drink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope I did not keep you waiting long, Brian,” Mike said as he slipped into the booth across from Ben. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Ben said with a smile. He lifted his chin at the queue, “I know how to keep myself busy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, right, of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what’s been stirring on your side of town?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, one of Jude’s candles ended up losing it over a card game. Turned the poor bloke’s porch into tinder.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ouch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apparently Jared-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good ol meathead Jared?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The very same. Apparently he’s got a gym now, real exclusive. Caters to people wanting to really make some changes, if you know what I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess I’ll have to keep a lookout for more meatheads then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, from what I hear, it’s mostly other meatheads he caters to, but apparently some poor bloke just wanting a gym that allows steroids showed up. They avoided him best as they could, but he walked in on Octopus Jimmy, and so the meatheads decided to try and get him to join the club right then and there. Gave him a right ol spook.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those dumb meatheads.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll say. Anything on your side of town? How’s Raphaella?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben grimaced. “She’s doing well enough,” he started. “Considering the circumstances. She was really hoping that everyone would show for that movie night we planned, but the only one who bothered was Tim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What a shame.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Hardly anyone even messages in the group chat anymore. I check it if I get some notifications, but it is usually just Ashes and Tim who chat. Ah well, maybe if we can get the others to stick around after the next show. Raphaella is a big people person, so the radio silence has been hitting her hard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Mike said. “Where is she today, if you don’t mind me asking? She usually makes our coffee meets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eh, she went to Germany for the week. Some convention for her job. I should’ve mentioned that earlier, sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing to it. How about you? The absence of the rest of the band getting you down?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m doing better than Raph,” he said. “It’s a bummer than Jonny, Ivy, and Marius are being sticks in the mud about it, but I’d rather let them figure it out on their own. Their decision to embrace the music again and all that. Try to force them into it, and you get the same case with that gym guy. They run off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, no luck on getting the band back together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eh, Ashes and Tim said they’d definitely show up for a jam session. Ivy said maybe, as long as we made sure we met up at the Aurora and made sure there weren’t any Stowaways. Marius is still being all ‘holier than thou’ about not practicing or risking hurting anyone, and Jonny has hardly poked into the group chat since the Snap Show.” Brian frowned and rubbed a spot on his neck. “I think we’re all still hurt by that, even almost a couple years later. Make sure not to mention the rest of the band to the Fairchilds, I’d rather not have another run of that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hah, what do you take me for, Brian? I promise to keep mum. It’s only thanks to you and Raphaella that I walked away from the show last year.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After you got a little too curious and snuck into a full on Mechanisms concert? Yeah, you were lucky to walk away with only a broken arm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you two will never let me live it down. I know, I know. Without you two sparing me, I’d be a bloody corpse.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Least it brought us closer as friends, eh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Mike smirked. “By the way, the Circus has been making moves in town again. You’ve heard about the Circus, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so, creepy mannequins, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, with a clown aesthetic, for some unknowable reason. Leave it to the Eye guys to figure that one out. Anyways, I figured I’d mention them to you, they’re planning on doing some ritual to end the world within the next few years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben’s eyes bugged out. “What!” he exclaimed. “Since when can th- can anyone even do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, if you believe the words of some dead bloke from the 1800s. Rituals haven’t worked yet, as you can see the world is still standing, but the Circus seems pretty certain that their party will work this time. Someone or something always interferes before they get too far though, most likely the Archivist lately.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Archivist?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, old Gertrude. She has been kicking around for 50 odd years now, busting rituals. As bad as a Hunter, that one. As long as you steer clear of her, and don’t plan any world ending rituals, you should be fine. You aren’t planning on trying one, are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben laughed. “Nah,” he said. “I’ll leave that to the old sods. How about you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me neither, maybe Simon will get around to it at some point, but I don’t see the use. The world is fine as it is, in my opinion. The Church of the Divine Host is planning their own too, but that has been more of a worldwide effort from what I’ve seen. Nothing to do in the UK.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe they’re hoping the Archivist’s ankles get inflamed on plane flights.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She probably has compression socks for that, though I hear she took a boat to stop the last ritual.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hah!” Ben laughed. He took a sip of his drink, mind going back to what Mike said about the Circus being active in the country. “One of my friends disappeared after going to a circus,” Brian said quietly, a deadly tone entering his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike swallowed, Ben watched the dump of his Adam’s apple dip up and down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where have they been fooling around?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>[]++++||=======&gt;</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian hummed a tune as he and Mike walked down the litter ridden passageway. Either some teens had been using this as a place to smoke, or the local homeless population had used these tunnels at some point. No one was here now, though. If they were, then they kept to themselves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was odd, being down here, like stepping back into history. The halls were wide, the water damage minimal. Every so often, there were old burn marks, like dark scars, but they were able to avoid them easily. Mike seemed anxious, nervously checking each corridor they passed through for structural integrity before they went in. The neat pillars holding up the roof seemed to do their job well enough. Honestly, other than the dark and the trash, the place was relatively well maintained, for somewhere abandoned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From what his companion said, they would be under the Royal Opera House now. Apparently these were the old burnt remains of the old theatre, on which the subsequent reincarnations had been built. The entrance had just been an old metal door, already left propped open for them as if for easy access. Brian shone his torch around at the walls and behind columns, keeping an eye out for the odd clown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, they made it to the main auditorium, a wide open space that was carved entirely of stone. As Brian pointed his torch up and took in the ceiling, still intricately carved, Mike went into one of the rows. Brian twirled around as his friend yelped, and saw him backing away from what looked like someone sitting on one of the seats, entirely carved out of stone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike laughed nervously at his worried glance. “I thought it moved,” he explained. “It’d be right up the Circus’s alley to make statues come alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian snorted. “Well, just call if one of them tries to get ya,” he said. Mike could take care of himself, most of the time. With that, he made his way towards the stage, whistling Pump Shanty as he grew close to it. The acoustics were not all that bad, he thought. Might be better if he was on stage though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian heaved himself up onto the raised stone platform, walking to the center and turning around to look at the dark audience. He could see Mike’s flashlight poking out from between the silent stone spectators. He began to sing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pump, me boys, let her fly</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Down to hell and up to the sky</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bend your backs and break your bones</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re just a million miles from home</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian paused to admire the echo of his voice off the auditorium walls, just in time to hear the swift </span>
  <em>
    <span>clack clack clack</span>
  </em>
  <span> of plastic on stone. He spun towards the sound, his torch lighting up the horrifying visage of a clown dressed in a bright dress, covered in polka dots and ruffles. It charged towards him and Brian swore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He dodged the clown’s first swing, and took up a verse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Some wiser man than I once spoke</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That life at heart is all a joke</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But he was not embroiled in smoke</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So it’s pump, me boys, before we choke</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the end of each line, Brian went on the offence, jabbing at the clown in a music-mad fury. The song wasn’t as effective without accompaniment, but Brian made due with the rhythmic steps on stone as they fought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grappled the clown as he shifted into the chorus again, practically spitting the lyrics into its still, makeup covered face. It twisted away as the chorus ended, feet finding the rhythm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>The image of my sweetheart’s face</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It fires my heart and sets the pace</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Whate’er the time, whate’er the place</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll find him through the depths of space.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian sang the next verse as the clown spun around him. He did so with a grin on his face as it tried to dance circles around him, moving into the chorus again. Funny thing about music, the rhythm is determined by the drum’s beat, so any clown trying to dance along would have to go at his pace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>A transport mission gone awry,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Attacked by Cole and left to fry,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Is no excuse, boys, let us cry:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Today is not the day we die!</span>
  </em>
  <span>’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sang, skipping ahead. He spotted Mike’s approach over the crowd. He lent his friend a touch of fighting spirit as he stomped the beat of the all important instrumental. The clown took the opportunity to rush him again, so Brian let it crash over his back as he ducked clear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>One, two, three, four</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he commanded, speeding up the tempo severely. Mike landed on the stage as he counted and sent him a grin, taking the music better than any mortal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pump, me boys, let her fly</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Down to hell and up to the sky</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bend your backs and break your bones</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re just a million miles from home</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clown stumbled over its feet trying to adjust its dance. Brian kicked out a foot, sweeping its legs out from under it. The clown fell to the ground in a pathetic clatter of plastic. Mike was there to help, leveling a kick to its side and making its body slide across the stage. Fury outlined their movements as they struck in time to the beat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pump, me boys, let her fly</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Down to hell and up to the sky</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bend your backs and break your bones</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re just a million miles from home</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian sang, letting the last word echo through the hall. Mike’s shoulders drooped as the song ended. Brian fell deadly silent as Mike panted, hands on his knees. The Mechanism approached the clown where it was trying to scramble away and looked at it in consideration. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Out,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clown jolted. Then it slowly moved away, accelerating as it realized that Brian was letting it go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stupid clown,” he said, massaging his cheek where it had gotten a lucky hit. That would be an ugly bruise in the morning. He scooped up his torch from where it had fallen out of his grip in the fight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike groaned. “I hate it when you do that,” he said. “Warn me next time before you make me join in like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Brian said with a smirk. “Mike the Stowaway has a right rhythm to it though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m good with throwing people off buildings and causing vertigo. Not interested in joining your band.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re sure,” Brian joked. “We could use another crew member.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha ha, very funny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They paused their banter as a soft scraping noise echoed through the auditorium. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian fell into a crouch, approaching the edge of the stage. Mike followed closely behind. Brian looked over the edge and spotted a dark bundle. A person, he realized as it shifted under his torch’s beam of light. He jumped down next to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You alright there?” he asked, turning them over. He bit back a swear as he saw the state of the man’s face. It was bloody mutilated. Mike gagged. Brian scanned over the rest of him, recognising the outfit as something someone would wear for a lot of outdoors activity. An urban explorer, gone exploring alone in the wrong place at the wrong time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man groaned as Brian took his arm in hand, looking it over. Bits and pieces of skin had been peeled away, and in some parts were replaced with plastic perfectly that there was barely a rise where it started. He looked like a patchwork doll.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can’t take him to A&amp;E,” Brian said quickly. “Though he really needs it, they won’t treat injuries this obviously supernatural.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should we just leave him here for the clowns then?” Mike asked doubtfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not,” he responded. “I’ll just have to hope that Marius doesn’t kill me for bringing the supernatural to his flat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marius? As in, the guy who won’t look you or Raphaella in the eyes for embracing your powers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian sighed. “Yup, the very same. Still calls it a curse the last time we really talked, though he seemed to know more about the whole situation with the Slaughter than he should. Marius works as a nurse at the hospital and took an oath about never hurting someone. Real pacifist, hates what has become of us. He gets into morality a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like a fun guy, think he’ll help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course he will,” Brian said. “Help me pick this guy up. Hey doll dude, we’re going to take you to my buddy’s place and get you patched up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>[]++++||=======&gt;</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike swayed from side to side, the urban explorer man’s arm slung over his shoulder. He looked a lot worse in the yellow light of the hall outside of what was supposedly Marius’s flat than he did in the theatre. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike had only met the other Mechanisms, other than Brian and Raphaella, briefly. It was not the best memory, to be perfectly honest. They had all been pretty angry about him finding his way to one of their performances, though Raphaella had assured him that they were just worried about him getting hurt. It was a bit strange for a group of musicians who played songs to make people turn into a murderous mob, but Mike was someone who had used multiple Leitners to try to escape the Twisting Deceit. He really couldn’t judge what got people into this business. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Either way, he did not really know what to expect from Brian’s friend Marius as the door opened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should have foreseen the scrubs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marius,” Brian said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ben,” Marius greeted. “I told you to call me Kofi. Now, why on earth do you need me at this time of night-” he cut off as he spotted the doll dude. “What happened to him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some clown, we think,” Brian, or maybe Ben, said as explanation, pushing in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kofi moved out of the way as he waved Mike in. “Set him in here,” he guided to the bedroom. “I’ve got no small quantity of medicinal supplies with the messed these guys get into. Ben, get it out from under the sink.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian saluted and dipped out as Mike set the doll dude on the bed. Other than the unconscious man, he was alone with the mysterious Marius, or Kofi as he preferred. He stepped back as he brushed closer to take a look at the doll dude, taking his pulse and doing other nurse-type things that Mike hardly understood. Brian returned with a massive box packed full of supplies which Kofi laid out neatly. Mike stood to the side uselessly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doll dude woke up then, his eyes barely able to open due to his puffy, irritated cheeks. “Ti‘im,” he slurred. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brian scooped up the doll dude’s phone from where Kofi had placed it on the bed. He handed it to Mike. “See if you can find an emergency contact there,” he said. “I’m going to help Mar- I’m going to help Kofi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike gratefully took the opportunity to slip out of the room, growing nauseous at the sight of Kofi removing the doll dude’s shirt and revealing a heavily bruised and plastic-ed torso. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked over the phone, pressing the button on the side to turn it on. There were several recent texts from a ‘Tim,’ who seemed to be rather worried. Also, apparently the doll dude’s name was Danny. Calling Tim seemed to be the best first step. The first call went to voicemail, but the second was picked up on the first ring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Danny?” assumedly Tim yelled. “Where are you? I checked-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Mike said intelligently. “Hey, we, we found Danny, in the Theatre Royal ruins. He was pretty beat up, so we brought him to our nurse buddy’s place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who is this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My name’s Mike, Brian and, uh, Kofi are here too, patching him up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is my brother?” Tim sounded like he was walking quickly. Where exactly he was going, Mike had no clue. At least he knew the relation now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhm, here let me give you the address,” Mike said and told him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why on earth did you take him to some apartment instead of to a hospital?” Tim questioned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike hesitated, considering how to answer the question. “You’ll see when you get here,” he finally said. “Kofi’s a nurse, so he will patch your brother up fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Tim spit out. Mike flinched away from the speaker at how violent it was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim hung up on him. Mike told Brian and Kofi that Danny’s brother Tim was coming, and then he went and sat on the nearest couch. Barely thirty minutes had passed before there was violent knocking on the door. Mike hopped up and opened it. Standing there, panting, was a man who looked a lot like the doll guy if he wasn’t all beat up and didn’t have a bunch of plastic stuck in him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is Danny?” Tim asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike let him in, closing the door behind. “In the back room, Kofi is still patching him up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim strode right into the back, and Mike kept close to his heels. He had been doing that a lot this night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Danny,” Tim breathed as he opened the door and spotted his brother, now covered in bandages. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike took that as his cue to leave. He shot Brian a gesture to call him later, and slipped out of the room. As he closed the door to the flat behind him, Mike let all of the tension drain out of his small frame. Tonight had ended well, all things considered. Maybe he should have stuck around to help explain things to Tim and Danny, he thought as he started the long walk home. Honestly, Mike doubted that he would be able to explain much. The Circus and its weird mannequins were more Jude’s cup of tea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should call a cab, he did have Simon’s credit card. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alright, just the update to Gunpowder Tim Exterminates the Corruption left before canon! Also, check out the series notes, I added a timeline.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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